Swush

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Johnny finally spotted her. What she'd been doing all this time. She was in the back of the barn, behind a haystack. She was pulling down her dress like she'd just had a pee. He hid on the opposite side of the barn, hoping she didn't see him. And then horror filled his stare. Because he saw an arm flail. Jerking as though hooked into some electric socket, then disappear just as suddenly. And her beautiful gaze turned back down, slipping her panties on all the way, her dress falling down. And she disappeared hunching down. Behind the haystack.. frantically working.. Covering.. hiding. "What the hell is she doing?" He thought to himself. And then she stood again, all pretty and sweaty. And climbed herself out of there.

Heading for the door, whiping clean the sweat from her face, clearing her throat, and getting herself ready and pretty.. she went out the main barn door. And quietly.. scared.. Johnny went up to where she were laying down before. Slowly whiping clear the hay, there he was. A man he'd never seen before. His face staring blankly at him.. dead. But was he dead? "Hey mister. Mister!" And he touched him with his foot, and then jumped. "UHH!" And Johnny screamed in horror. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead! His dead face though staring at Johnny said: "Help me.. Help me..." A whimper of misery. And Johnny ran. He ran as fast as he could..

[oddworld17801]

Sounds like the makings of another really good one. Please let this be one that gets more to it.

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When Johnny got home his uncle was there too. With a jug of what he called "Swush". It was the spring, and Uncle Joe had harvested all his half a dozen or so pumpkins from his barn that he'd stored for the winter, chuck full of brown sugar and his secret recipe. Over the course of the long winter they'd fermented well in the hay, to swell up to nearly twice their size. He'd run it thru a funnel with a paper coffee filter to get rid of all the stale chunks and put it in jugs. Now he was drunk, like he always was. But celebrating the new spring. Johnny was going to tell him what he saw, but the old man was half dead in front of the television set. He took two steps, and then ran upstairs to his room, slamming the door. "Help me.. Help me.." The words repeated over and over again in Johnny's mind. And the look on his face.. that horrible stare of hoplessness. He found himself terrified but morbidly fascinated. And he'd nightmare that night, but nonetheless sleep. And return the following day skipping school.

He had to know, you see. He had to know if it was real, and.. he had to know what this pretty lady had done to him. Why she were sweating so much.. and if what she were doing were sexual. It looked sexual.. though he couldn't see everything. In his brain he picked out a spot where he'd get a better look, and wait. And hide there tomorrow after his nights courage.

And Johnny dreamed.. Dreamed of the beautiful lady, his nephews friend. An older lady but nonetheless pretty. And hauntingly insidious to such a young mind.. Hauntingly nightmarish.

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thanks oddworld :)

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He let out a breath too quick. Too fast. His mind jerked him backwards at the thought of being caught. Because there she was.. Pulling free the many strands of hay. Almost in a panic. If she weren't she would have heard him. She would have heard little Johnny's fear. But she didn't..

He found a spot on the barns second level. A hayloft. But it was dangerous. This barn was old Mister Gean's, and hadn't been used or cared for in a long time, and the wood creaked, ready to give. But Johnny's spot was almost above her. Between a hole in the hay he'd had a perfect view and well concealed. And he shivered as he stared down on her again pulling up her skirt and pulling down her underwear, taking her legs out one at a time. Then she bent down to his sickly face, once adult and in control but now demented and retarded. And she ran her fingers across the bridge of his nose breathing heavy. Then.. moaning.. she pulled up her flower blue and white skirt again and climbed up on top of the man. Sticking him under.. and Johnny watched what the skirt had concealed at her hips flex.. rotate.. push in and pull out. Her legs spread wide.. her naked feet pointed outwards in a cheerleader like pose. He staired at her waistline squirming underneath that dress. Flexing and heaving.. and Johnny shivered. His eyes scanned down the guy's cloths. Watching his body shiver.. flail.. spazom uncontrollably. "Oh my god!" He whispered..

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To get up the hayloft Johnny had to climb this old wooden ladder. And hanging on it was an old rope barely knotted.. His use provoked some early settlement, and the rope finally found it's way loose, banging itself against a tin cup hanging on the wall on the first floor. The noise made the lovely blonde monster quiver in her voice.. a quick punch in her solar plexis, and her head turned off to the side to see what was happening. Johnny ducked too, but a little more confident in his camaflage. She stared intently, looking.. making sure no one was there. And she stopped screwing for a little while. But while she looked like they had a mind of their own, her hips went back to their strange manufacturing. Twitching the guys whole buddy like a dead piece of meat all the while with every upwards and downwards thrust. It was excruciatingly intoxicating to see her this way.. Such authority yet such scared alertness. Her mind caught up with her and her eyes closed, forgetting about the noise and going back to her screw. She'd grunt.. like it were dirty..

Little Johnny couldn't believe his eyes.

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He watched the whole thing.. from start to end. The strange man in the hay half dead.. the beatiful lady with the underwear and the dress that showed everything. She'd screw long and hard and then stop.. as if holding something still. The man's quivers were strong at first but then they died down.. just a hand off to the side with strange and unsteady shudders. And the golden blonde hair on her head coagulated with the sweat she were building up. With the grunts and the breathing and the shuffling and the sucking sounds.. It was better than Uncle's swush. It was like a light that were attracting a bug to it's death. Irresistably, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Yet every moment he stared, he couldn't bare it out of disgust. It was shameful, yet it was far beyond any class he'd seen. It was gross yet beautiful. It was too much for little Johnny, who began a slow cry. And where she would not have stopped, squirt, and cleaned herself off of him, he'd have blurted out to her to stop. A cry for his manhood. A cry he couldn't help..

But she did the same thing she did before. She groaned long and sweet, and then stood putting her panties back on. Licking her fingers.. Cleaning the sweat off of her forehead and headed out the front of the barn door. He stared at the unsettled hay she'd placed on top of him.. still moving.. still alive..

And Johnny went down there. Into the forbidden ferment of the hay stack.. For the plump and juicy pumpkin still laying there helplessly.. hopelessly. "Help me.." It said.

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"I can't help you, mister." Johnny said standing there with his hands in his pockets, a teery eyed face. He sniffed and said it again. "I can't help you." "Help me.. Help me.." "I can't." And the little boy's face wrinkled like it did when he was a little kid. And again Johnny ran. He ran as fast as he could..